


The Female Gaze

by killingsaray



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Art, Artists, Deep Conversations, Deep feelings, Enemies To Lovers...Sorta, F/F, Mind fucking, Model Villanelle, Photographer Eve, Photography History, Porn With Plot, fashion history, utter fucking FILTH
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-04
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2021-02-23 08:56:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23008954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/killingsaray/pseuds/killingsaray
Summary: “When I first saw you, I knew if I took your photograph, my work would be complete. I would finally feel like I’d shot the perfect frame. I knew if I took your photograph, I would never want to take another one for as long as I lived.” Eve said, fingertips tracing a line from Villanelle’s temple to her angled jawline.Villanelle smiled softly, her blinking slow in her post-coital haze. “When I first saw you, I thought... what a bitch.”ORThe model/photographer AU that no one asked for, but I wrote anyway.*Updates Tuesdays
Relationships: Eve Polastri/Villanelle | Oksana Astankova
Comments: 111
Kudos: 863





	1. Lens

* * *

_London, UK, June, Tuesday, 11:22AM_

When Carolyn Martens stopped her in the bustling town center in the middle of her retail therapy, Villanelle Astankova had been flattered. She knew she was beautiful, but it was lovely when other people told her so. From that day forward, the blonde-haired beauty strutted with a purpose into modeling agencies across the world, looking for the perfect company with which to sign. 

That had been five years ago. Since then, Villanelle had become a pro: she modeled in runway shows and commercials, magazines and billboards. Now, whenever she saw an advert with her gorgeous profile, Villanelle rolled her eyes because more often than not, she’d been annoyed at the photo shoot. Usually the photographer was some misogynist who would hit on her before or after the shoot and Villanelle would play a quick mental game of ‘ _How Would I Murder Him?’_. 

Or the crew would have her sitting around for hours whilst the director and photographer rearranged entire sets.

Nowadays, Villanelle spent her days being shuttled back and forth between photoshoots and go-sees, where a designer fitted her with their collections and judged her walk. Sometimes Konstantin, her bodyguard, would bring her a sweet delicacy from whatever city they were in at the time. 

The money was incredible, _some_ of the people were interesting, and she usually fell in love with the beautiful architecture of most cities. Truthfully, though, most of the photographers and designers were stuck up and wanted so badly to be considered true artists that they completely missed the point. 

In a nutshell: Villanelle was _so fucking bored_ with it all. At 27, she was considered a ‘veteran’, and took pleasure in knowing that —at least sometimes— she had the respect of a lot of people in the fashion world. But even that, in itself, became repetitive. The stared at her like she was goddess, and all she wanted was to have a meaningful conversation with someone, _anyone_.

“You will have to hustle through this go-see.” Carolyn said into her ear.

“Why?”

“The designer has someplace to be by half-past.”

“That is his fault for double booking.”

She could practically _hear_ Carolyn’s lips pursed disapprovingly. “I will do my best.”

“Make me look good.”

Villanelle’s eyes reached the heavens. Because that’s really all it was about for Carolyn: appearances. And Villanelle did well enough to keep them up. She dressed like the world was her catwalk because according to Carolyn, it was. She was professional enough when it came to her job, although most people saw her as outwardly distant. 

But the one area that Carolyn didn’t seem to have any control over was Villanelle’s personal life. She was constantly in the tabloids with a new piece of eye candy draped around her like a vintage Hermès scarf. Carolyn would have preferred if Villanelle looked consistently unattainable. It was _because_ that was exactly what Carolyn wanted that Villanelle rebelled.

Villanelle, however, remained woefully uninterested in the models she shared her bed with. More often than not they were just pretty faces with a head full of air and pipe dreams. Still, she had needs just like anyone else. Besides, she didn’t drink or do copious amounts of cocaine like most of the models she knew, so she used sex as a way to release any pent up energy or frustrations.

“Text me when you’re finished.”

“Okay.”

Villanelle pulled an AirPod from her ear and shoved them into her cobalt blue Birkin bag, a custom birthday gift from Jean-Paul Gaultier.

“How much further?” She asked Konstantin.

“We are here.” He replied, slowing the car to a stop in front of a valet booth. Hopping out, he rounded the car to open Villanelle’s door before handing the key fob to the young valet who looked beyond excited to drive the Bugatti Chiron sports car. 

“The wrap on this car is worth more than your life,” Konstantin told the kid, shaking a finger in warning. “Do not scratch it.”

Villanelle pushed her sunglasses further into her nose and smirked. Konstantin was harmless, really, but his Russian accent and portly stature was quite intimidating to the people who didn’t know him.

When she was confident that Konstantin was a safe distance behind her, Villanelle sauntered into the entrance, nodding politely to the doorman who held it open for her. 

Once inside, she was ushered through a lobby of the building, to a glass elevator where she rode to the third floor. The doors opened and Villanelle was met with a lovely converted loft complete with floor to ceiling windows on all sides. Villanelle briefly imagined what it would be like to live there, soaking in the sunrise, sunsets, and city lights whenever she wanted.

“Ms. Astankova?” A beautiful caramel-skinned woman asked, suddenly blocking her view of the loft. Villanelle took in the woman’s English accent and oversized sweater and loose cargo pants. If she strained just hard enough, she could tell that the woman was just shy of her third trimester.

“Yes.”

“I’m Jessica, Mr. Pargrave’s executive assistant.” She put her hand out and Villanelle shook it once. 

“Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.” Jessica replied, turning on her heels and tapping at the iPad she held in her hand. “Mr. Pargrave has approximately thirty minutes to assess your poise. There will be five quick changes, including ready-to-wear, couture, street wear and day-to-night ensembles. Finally, he’ll want to take three headshots from each angle of your face.”

Villanelle nodded once and removed her sunglasses as she followed the woman deeper into the loft, to a small section that had been blocked off by four-panel room room divider. Behind it were three industrial clothing racks filled with a preview of William Pargrave’s new collection. From what Villanelle could see, his work was fabulous, if not a little over the top. 

“I’ll need you to sign here. It’s a standard NDA. Basically it says you will not reveal anything about this collection to any major or minor news sources.” Jessica held the iPad up to Villanelle’s face and pointed to where she was required to sign. Villanelle ran through the NDA, making sure there were no misleading clauses before she used her pointer finger to sign on the screen. 

“Perfect. First look is here.” Jessica pointed to a vibrant green ensemble with outrageous green feathers trailing from the jacket’s collar all the way to the cuffs. 

“Thank you.” She turned to Konstantin and held up an additional NDA for him to sign. He looked at Villanelle, eyebrow cocked in question. She smirked and gave him an almost imperceptible nod. He signed and then Jessica led him to a small espresso station. 

That was am image she couldn’t wait to see: Konstantin’s massive hands holding a teensy espresso cup and saucer. 

It would have to wait. She sighed as she dropped her handbag onto a vanity mirror and began to undress. 

A few moments later, she stood in front of a floor-length mirror, admiring the way the pieces fit her body. A small hand rapped at the screen of the divider. 

“Ms. Astankova?” Jessica’s voice drifted towards her. 

“I’m ready.” She rounded the corner and standing next to Jessica was William Pargrave, designer of Keiko, a fashion label known for its outrageous pieces and even more insane prices. Rumor had it, the design ideas were all his wife’s, who’d only been a twenty-year old design student when he met her. Carolyn had told Villanelle that salacious slice of gossip pie just before mentioning that she believed the only reason he married the young woman was to keep making money off of her designs. 

He appraised Villanelle, taking in every inch of her from head to toe. It was an uncomfortable feeling most times because, as Villanelle was all too aware, the straight male designers were usually looking for a way in her pants. 

William, however, reached in to adjust the belted jacket around her small waist. 

“How do you feel about it?” He asked her, abruptly. 

“Sorry?”

“The jacket. What do you think of it?”

“I would buy it.” She told him, truthfully. 

“Really?” He made a circling gesture with his finger and she turned for him. 

“Yes.” When she turned back to face him, she mentioned, “I wouldn’t pair it with this pants though.”

William looked down at the black flared slacks that he’d paired the jacket with. “Oh?”

Rarely was she asked her opinion on any piece of wardrobe in a go-see. The few times she had, Villanelle had blatantly told the designers that the designs wouldn’t sell unless they touched on a few key points. Those were the designers who believed models should conduct themselves like children: be seen and not heard. 

_‘Suddenly, a blonde bimbo knows more about fashion than me? Get her out of my sight!’_ A designer had once yelled in French, not knowing that Villanelle was fluent. 

_‘If you spent more time with your nose in a stitching manual than a pile of cocaine, maybe this blonde bimbo wouldn’t have to tell you that your cross stitch is worth shit!’_ She’d sassed back in French, leaving him standing there with his face red and jaw dropped.

She’d seen him once after that, during Milan fashion week. He immediately turned and walked in the opposite direction. But he’d sent her a few pieces from his new collection, and Villanelle had noticed that his cross stitch had improved tremendously. 

“What would you wear it with?” William asked, pulling her from her thoughts. 

Villanelle had considered this when she stood in the mirror moments prior. Her eyes had shifted towards a pair of emerald green palazzo pants with pleated thighs and a cinched waist. She told William as much and the older gentleman took a moment to himself. He nodded, hesitantly. 

“Very well. Let’s try it.” He turned to Jessica. “When she’s ready, send her out.” Jessica nodded, dutifully and then turned to Villanelle and smiled reassuringly. 

“He’s used to deferring to women when it comes to womenswear.” She told Villanelle with a wink. 

_Well, Carolyn’s gossip seemed to ring truer than I thought_ , Villanelle mused as she changed into the green pants. Immediately, the jacket popped more and she approved of the look before finding Jessica once more. 

“All set?”

“Yes.” 

“Come along.” The executive assistant led their model to an open concept area on the opposite side of the loft where Villanelle spotted Konstantin, sipping his tiny coffee, pinkie nearly raised. She stifled a chuckle and followed Jessica’s directions to stand at the very end of what would be considered her catwalk. Off to her left, William sat at a rectangular table, headshots and resumes before him. There were two empty seats on either side of him. When Jessica filled the one on his right, Villanelle briefly wondered who the third chair was for. 

As if he could read thoughts, William told her, “Villanelle, we are just waiting for my photographer. Then we’ll be—.”

A muffled thump sounded, followed by a shocked, “Shit!”

“I’m here! Sorry, I’m late. airport traffic is a _bitch_! You wouldn’t believe what I had to promise my driver to break every traffic law to get me here. Let’s just say it involves photographs of—.” A short, petite woman with beautiful diffused curls and filthy mouth huffed towards Bill, looking down at a Nikon in her hand, inspecting it for any damage from the recent drop as she tripped off of the elevator. She stopped short when she finally looked up and came face to face with Villanelle. 

Villanelle’s mouth was suddenly dry. Her hands were inexplicably clammy and she was trying desperately not fidget under the gaze of the older woman. She was stunning. Beautiful skin, perfectly shaped face and hair so amazing that Villanelle was just the slightest bit jealous.

“Eve! You’re right on time. Villanelle just got ready. We’re going to see her walk now. Then you can take a few photos of her.”

Eve gaped at the blonde model, her movements frozen, camera against her torso, protectively. 

“Hi, Eve.” Villanelle finally said, breaking the ice. 

A myriad of emotions shot across Eve’s face upon hearing Villanelle’s voice for the first time. Surprise at her accent. Concern as her eyes flitted between her camera and Villanelle. And the quick flash of what Villanelle would probably consider the human equivalent to the heart eyes emoji. 

She took a reluctant step forward, studying Villanelle’s face as if committing it to memory so she’d have it forever. 

“Bill, I can’t shoot her.”

Villanelle was both confused and insulted, and she looked to William for answers.

“Eve?” He wondered, just as befuddled. 

“I can’t shoot her.” Eve insisted. “Look at her. She’s just so—,” _gorgeous, awe-inspiring, poets-write-poetry-about-her-beauty fucking flawless_ , Eve wanted to say, but instead, what came out of her mouth was, “ _basic_.”

“ _Excuse me_ ?” Villanelle asked, now _thoroughly_ offended. 

The older woman turned on her heels and started to march back towards the elevator. 

“I’m so sorry, Villanelle. Please give us a moment.” William said, jumping from his seat to catch Eve before she escaped. 

Villanelle looked to Jessica who looked helpless. 

“What the _hell_ was that?” Villanelle asked Konstantin and Jessica. 

“ _That_ was Eve Polastri.”

Villanelle’s mouth fell open. “ _The_ Eve Polastri?”

“The one and only.”

“I guess it is true what they say.” Kotanstin chuckled and drained the remnants of his espresso. “Never meet your idols.”

Eve Polastri’s work was the stuff of every photographer’s wet dreams. From her subjects to the lighting she used, Eve had an eye for angles and the timing of portraits that no one else seemed to. Every single photograph she’d taken told stories. She was able to capture the very essence of a person, place or inanimate object on film. But also she was a bit of a recluse. Even though Eve was never seen at parties or any major events, there wasn’t an artist alive who didn’t want to work under her, and Villanelle was no exception. 

Until now. 

_What a bitch_ , Villanelle thought. 

Even with their voices raised, the blonde strained to her what they were talking about.

“She’s here now. Just take the photographs and let that be the end of it!” William exclaimed. 

“They will look like every other photograph of every other blonde model. Just take the photos yourself.”

“Don’t be a complete dickswab.” William shouted.

Villanelle stifled another laugh, but Jessica couldn’t. Her bubbling laughter rose from her diaphragm to her esophagus and out of her mouth. 

“Are they always like this?” Konstantin inquired.

“Yes,” Jessica replied, laughter still in her voice, “but usually not with other people around.”

“I’m a dickswab? How about you not mentioning that I’d be shooting an actual person today. I don’t even have the right equipment.”

It seemed to Villanelle that Eve was just making excuses now.

“You told me you wanted me to shoot a few pieces of your collection for a lookbook for your website.”

“You are! They just happen to be on a model!”

“Jesus fuck!”

“Please, Eve? This is me cashing in on that favor you owe me. Remember that _Elle South Korea_ magazine shoot I set you up with?”

Eve gasped dramatically. “I knew you were going to bring that up, even _after_ you said ‘no strings attached’.” 

“I’m begging you to do this for me. As your longest platonic relationship and best friend, I’m asking you to do this for me.”

There was a quiet moment where Villanelle swore Eve was going to go fuck himself. But then she heard a heavy sigh. 

“Fine. But not here.” Eve said. 

“Fine. If I like her look and walk, I will send her to your studio this week.”

Villanelle heard the ding of the elevator doors, signaling Eve’s departure, mere moments before William walked back into the room, clasping his hands together. 

“Right, so where were we?” He asked with a cheerful smile on his face. 

Half an hour later, Bill, as he insisted that Villanelle call him, double kissed her cheeks and handed her an appointment card with an address, time and number of it. She wasn’t surprised. Most go-sees ended with her being offered a spot in a fashion show lineup or on an advert in a magazine. 

Villanelle would be lying if she said she hadn’t given Bill her best fashion week walk. Not to impress him, per se, but to get that booking to shoot with Eve Polastri. And she wouldn’t make it easy on the woman at all. Really she just wanted to give the older Asian woman a piece of her fucking mind. No one insulted Villanelle Astankova and got away with it. Eve would have to give respect in order to receive it from Villanelle. 

So, appointment card in hand, plan to articulately slaughter Eve Polastri in mind, Villanelle slipped her glasses back on and runway walked out of the building to her awaiting car.

“Don’t pull that face.” Konstantin commented, stopping at a red light. 

“What face?” Villanelle asked, feigning innocence. 

“That determined face. You are up to something.” He warned. 

Villanelle smiled and looked out of the window. “I plan to give Eve Polastri a taste of her own medicine.”

Konstantin made a tching noise with his tongue and teeth, accelerating as the light turned green. 

“I am not hiding the body for you.”

“You worry too much, Konstanin.” Villanelle laughed. “That is why your hairs are so gray now.. 

He grunted a noise of displeasure. 

“Don’t worry your pretty little head about it.” She said, rubbing his waning hairline, affectionately. “We are only going to teach her some manners.”


	2. Focal Point

* * *

_Visions Photography Studio, London, Thursday, 4:15 PM_

Carolyn’s motto was ‘you’re on time if you’re fifteen minutes early; you’re late if you’re on time’. Normally, Villanelle could give fuck all about being fifteen minutes early to anything except a good meal, but somehow she’d ended up outside of Eve’s studio space exactly then. She’d rushed Konstantin out of the door, bitching about possible traffic. He’d simply opened and closed the car door for her and rounded the car with an amused smile on his face.

The outside of Eve’s studio was quaint. It looked like any other small shop on the strip. Black paint around the large store-front windows gave it a modern feel. Villanelle opened the front door and stepped through to find herself inside a minimalist’s dream gallery. Virgin white walls were decorated with black and white photographs placed strategically to capture natural light through the windows. Villanelle took a lap around the large space, taking in Eve’s work. She stopped in front of one that definitely caught her attention; it was a photo of Eve in a crew neck and loose cropped pants, hair in a messy bun standing on a small wooden table. Hands over her face, barely covering her closed eyes. _Visions Photography Studio_ was printed across her torso. 

_Clever_ , Villanelle thought.

“You’re early.” A male voice said, making her jump. “Sorry.” As he walked towards her, he held his hand out to shake. “I’m Hugo, Eve’s apprentice.”

“Villanelle Astankova. This is Konstantin Vasiliev.”

Hugo shook Konstantin’s hand as well, wincing at the older man’s grasp. “Pleasure.” He gave a tight smile as he flexed his fingers. 

“Eve is setting up the studio now. Come on up.” He slid open the gray barn door that he must have appeared from, revealing a set of oak wood and black metal stairs. Up they went to the second floor that looked a lot like a converted warehouse that was sectioned into four smaller studios. Each had its own setup. The section furthest from the window —and the only one that wasn’t closed off by gray curtains— was furnished with a director’s chair and complete with an L-shaped vanity mirror and dozens of props for what Villanelle assumed would be an old Hollywood shoot. 

“Eve? Villanelle is here.” Hugo pulled back the heavy drapes and gestured for Villanelle and Konstantin to walk through. 

Eve knelt on one knee against a short stool with the other foot firmly planted on the ground. Her head was bowed as she flicked through the settings of her camera. She raised it once, peering through the lens briefly before shaking her head. She made a few more adjustments on the camera and then tested it again. Finally, she seemed pleased and took notice of her guests. 

”Take off your jacket.” She demanded and then made her way over to the vanity table. 

“Buy a girl a drink first, Eve.” Villanelle quipped cheekily. 

Eve’s eyes shot up to look at Villanelle through the giant mirror, clearly not amused. 

Villanelle gave a low whistle, raised her brows and widened her eyes as if to sarcastically say ‘tough crowd’. Removing her oversized denim jacket, Villanelle handed it to Konstantin. 

“I wasn’t sure what to wear,” Villanelle said, making her way over to the vanity. She picked up a perfectly placed lipstick tube and opened it. “So, I just went with something… basic.” She met Eve’s eyes through the mirror and smirked. Eve snatched the lipstick from Villanelle and sat it back where it was. 

“Don’t touch.” She rounded Villanelle and readjusted the placement of a few more props. “Okay. We’re ready.”

Villanelle’s hands went up in surrender. “Where do you want me?”

 _On this vanity. Bent over that stool. Hell, right here on this floor_ , the brunette mused.

Eve patted the top of the counter twice. “Up.”

“Yes, ma’am.” She stepped on the small stool that Eve probably needed to reach the back of the counter and turned to sit on it. The movement made her romper slip up her legs, revealing to Eve that what she thought was a pair of tights, were actually thigh high stockings. The older woman stared for a second too long before Villanelle caught on and ran her slender fingers up her thigh alluringly. 

“Agent Provocateur.” She murmured to Eve with a mischievous smile. “Cute, huh?”

Eve cleared her throat and turned her back to Villanelle. “Hugo, we’ll start with the Canon. Let’s try the 85-millimeter filter and the lens at 1.2 and see how we like that first.”

“Won’t the 200-millimeter flatter her delicious little frame more?”

“Don’t be creepy,” Eve told him and heard a quiet snort of laughter from behind her. “Her frame, yes, but for now we’re going to focus on her face. The 85 will give us a tighter focal point and won’t give us that grainy finish once it’s developed.”

Hugo nodded and picked up the camera that Eve had been tweaking.

“Villanelle, I’m going to take a few test shots and then we’ll go from there, yeah?”

“Wait,” Villanelle said. “ _You_ aren’t taking my picture?” She asked Eve.

“Trust me,” Eve told her. “You don’t want me to take your picture.”

“Why not?”

“This would go all night. I never stop until I’m completely satisfied.”

Villanelle cocked an eyebrow. “Promise?”

Eve’s eyes reached the heavens. “Hugo, let’s go.” She wandered back to where he stood, arms folded across her chest. Hugo did as he was told, taking a few test shots and then looked them over with Eve.

“See? Tighter focal point.”

“Okay, Villanelle, have fun.” Eve directed. 

“What?”

“Pose however you’d like.”

Villanelle went through a series of poses that she knew elongated her neck and made her jawline look sharp enough to cut someone. She picked up a cropped sweater lined with faux fur that had been tossed haphazardly onto the counter and put it on. Resting her foot on the arm of the director’s chair in front of her, Villanelle lifted her hands and scooped her hair up as if she were going to tie it in a high ponytail. 

“Hold that. Don’t move.” Eve said. She instructed Hugo to take the photograph at every angle. 

“Lower your chin.” 

Villanelle did.

“Too low.”

She raised it a fraction of an inch. 

“Perfect. Stay just like that.” 

Hugo snapped away a few more times before Villanelle was permitted to move once again. He took a few more photos of her playing around with the props; a pair of cat-eye sunglasses on then dangling from her fingers. Pretending to put on the lipstick she’d picked up earlier. Staring in the mirror. Writing on the mirror with lipstick.

All the while, Hugo focused on capturing the beauty of her face. When Villanelle had done all she could do and Hugo pulled out the SD card from the camera, the blonde could see a pensive look on Eve’s face. Chewing on her thumbnail, brows furrowed, Eve shook her head as she clicked through the pictures on her Macbook. 

“No. No. No. No. No.” She said as she swiped through. Hugo looked over her shoulder, pointing at one. 

“That one’s not bad.”

“No.” Was all Eve said. Villanelle hopped off of the counter and joined them at the computer. She didn’t see anything wrong with any of the photos that Hugo had taken. 

“What’s wrong?” Hugo asked.

“The background. The lighting. It’s just… _something_.” Eve replied. She put her hands on her hips and looked around the set. “Take ten and let me figure something out.”

Konstantin had somehow acquired a bottle of water for Villanelle which she gratefully accepted. Eve disappeared behind the curtain.

“So, are you still seeing that model that _The Sun_ caught you with on the balcony of Hotel 41?” Hugo asked. Villanelle shared an amused look with Konstantin.

“No.”

“Cool, so you’re single?”

“No, and before you ask, no you don’t have a chance.” 

“Oh yeah, I get it, you prefer tacos over hot dogs. I get it.”

Villanelle looked both irritated and disgusted. “You are a weird little man.”

“Thanks.”

“Okay,” Eve said, whipping back the curtain. She picked up her Macbook, one camera and two lens extensions. “Follow me.”

Villanelle, Hugo and Konstantin followed Eve out of the sectioned studio across the expanse of hardwood floors to yet another one. This one was completely empty save for a wooden stool, a dark backdrop and a continuous lightning pole on a stand encompassed by a light modifier umbrella. Hugo handled the equipment while Eve gestured for Villanelle to sit on the stool.

“Sit.”

Villanelle sat. Eve took a step back to look at her. Then, without any explanation, Eve slipped off of the sweater she’d been wearing over a denim button-up shirt. “Put this on.”

“Thank god. I thought that was a sweater attached to a shirt.”

“Don’t be an arsehole. Put it on.” Villanelle did as she was told, slipping the sweater over her romper, but she could tell by Eve’s face that something was still missing. Taking the vintage pin from her own hair, Eve let her curls fall much to Villanelle’s delight. She slipped the long through the sweater as a makeshift brooch. She nodded once.

“May I?” Eve asked, hands moving to adjust Villanelle’s posture. Tentatively, Villanelle nodded. 

Mere seconds later, she wished she hadn’t. 

The moment Eve’s hands touched her, goosebumps covered every inch of her body. Eve forced her to straighten her back and relax her shoulders. Eve’s soft fingers took hold of Villanelle’s hands and lifted her them to rest just under her ample breasts. She arranged blonde hair around Villanelle’s shoulders and then stood back, staring at her younger counterpart as if she was a work of art.

“Stay.”

“Hugo,” Eve called, “she’s ready.”

“Look at the camera like you love it,” Hugo suggested, determined to get the perfect shot of her cat-like eyes. Villanelle looked at the camera, but her eyes were devoid of any emotion. Hugo made a few more unhelpful suggestions as he snapped away. Eve’s fingers twitched, her desire to take the perfect photograph properly outweighing her necessity to teach Hugo.

Eve took the camera from him and pointed the lens at Villanelle. “Look at _me_.”

She didn’t know why, but it worked. Emotion flooded across Villanelle’s face. 

_Melancholy mixed with hope. Exaltation_ . _Fearlessness_. 

_Desire_.

Villanelle turned her head just enough, hair falling over her right shoulder, and gazed at Eve. Eve lifted the camera, her heart racing, amplified by the way Villanelle seemed to stare into her soul as if she were trying to light a fire within it. She hesitated for a split second. Then brought it to her eye. And captured the moment. “That’s the one.” Eve handed the camera back to Hugo and disappeared from the room.

She returned a few moments later with an equipment bag for her cameras and their accessories, sitting it on the stool that Villanelle had previously vacated. “Hugo. You’re good to go. Can you be here to open the studio around eleven?”

“Sure thing.”

“Awesome. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Villanelle watched with curious eyes as they said their goodbyes, which consisted of a macho fist-bump followed by a quick hug.

“I will go get the car,” Konstantin said. Villanelle gave him a nod of acknowledgment.

“Why did you decide against the mirror and props?” Villanelle asked Eve once they were alone.

“They weren’t necessary,” Eve said, removing the lens extension from her camera.

“Why not?”

“They were a distraction. The background was too busy. They took away from what I was trying to capture.”

“Oh,” Villanelle replied and slipped off Eve’s sweater, handing it to her. “What were you trying to capture?”

“You,” Eve said, simply, leaving Villanelle with more questions than answers. Eve placed her equipment into her bag with the delicate touch of someone who had respect for the inanimate objects. Sensing her quiet conjecture, Eve sighed, taking pity on her. “Look, when I have a subject with an extensive amount of natural beauty, I don’t want someone to look at the photograph and try to identify each object in the back. I want them to immediately focus on my primary subject. Everything else is unnecessary. The only thing I want people to see is--.”

“Me,” Villanelle concluded. 

“Exactly.” Eve zipped up the bag of equipment and slung it over her shoulder.

“So, you think I have an extensive amount of natural beauty?” Villanelle inquired smugly.

“It was a metaphor.” 

“Mhm.” Villanelle replied, not convinced at all.

“Are we done?” Eve asked, once again exasperated by the blonde before her. She picked up the camera itself from the stool and wrapped its lanyard around her palm.

“No,” Villanelle smirked and maneuvered her way onto the stool, finally eye level with the emotionally distant brunette, “I want to have dinner with you.”


	3. Subject

* * *

_Hutong, London, UK, 9:53 PM_

Serving dim sum and panoramic city views, Hutong was a cozy upscale spot complete with a wall of lanterns, silk curtains, and northern Chinese fare. Eve and Villanelle sat in a small, intimate corner of the otherwise enormous establishment exactly thirty-three floors above street level.

Chin resting on her fist and looking out at the beautiful London skyline, Eve wished she had her camera with her. This was an incredible view and she would kill to photograph it.

“Some beautiful things are better as memories,” Villanelle said as if she could read her mind.

“Hm.” Eve hummed noncommittally. It was clear that she neither agreed nor disagreed with Villanelle’s statement. She turned to find Villanelle gazing at her. “So, why did you want to have dinner with me?”

Villanelle inhaled deeply and shrugged a shoulder. “Well, we are going to be working together with Bill for his website and I think we should at least be cordial.”

“Am I not cordial?”

“You are a lot of things,” Villanelle said and Eve couldn’t even begin to decipher what _that_ was supposed to mean. She didn’t want to be here. She didn’t want to be alone with Villanelle. _Why couldn’t the blonde take the hint?_ The girl didn’t seem like a bad person. Eve just had no idea how much longer she was going to be able to be around her without wanting to clear this table, sit her on top of it and fuck her with the city as a backdrop. Maybe take her back to the studio and see if she’d let Eve take pictures of her with her head between Eve’s thighs. The thought caused her pussy to clench and the hand on her chin to tighten into a fist.

It would probably end there, though. She would walk into Bill’s shoot and pass Villanelle like she didn’t know what it felt like to have been inside of her. 

Eve wasn’t looking for anything permanent. At least, not with someone who made their living on superficiality. Villanelle was quick-witted, sure, but how long would it be before Eve got bored with her smart mouth? She needed someone who would challenge her. Someone who she could talk to about something other than the latest fashion or celebrity gossip. Eve didn’t care about shit like that. 

They were interrupted by a waiter coming to take their orders. Not that either of them had really looked at the menu. Villanelle went with roasted Peking duck with homemade pancakes and a spicy chili dipping sauce. Eve decided on her favorite: yam and pork belly crispy dumplings with a black truffle and edamame salad. 

“You don’t like me very much, do you?” Villanelle suspected. She wasn’t angry or even offended. In fact, she looked just short of amused. 

“I don’t know you enough to not like you.”

“Okay, so then let’s get to know one another.”

Eve wasn’t interested. Villanelle could tell by the way she simply stared at her. 

“Oh, come on.” Villanelle urged, resting her folded forearms on the table and leaning forward. “What do you have to lose?”

 _Time_ , Eve mused. But she was here now. _Something_ in her had allowed herself to be pulled to the restaurant. Something besides her lust for the girl. 

Fine. She’d throw Villanelle a bone. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-seven.”

 _God, she’s a fucking baby_ , Eve thought.

“How old are _you_?”

“ _Not_ twenty-seven.” Eve smiled, leaning forward, matching Villanelle’s posture. 

“Can I guess?”

Eve tilted her head, nodding once. 

“Thirty-six.”

That made Eve laugh. “I wish.”

Villanelle smiled brilliantly. She liked seeing Eve with mirth in her eyes. It lit up her features and made her so more personable. 

“One more guess,” Eve told her.

“Forty?”

“Forty-eight.”

Villanelle’s eyes squinted as if she was waiting for Eve to tell her that she was only kidding. “I don’t believe you.”

“Google it.” Eve shrugged. 

“You are so—.” _Young_ didn’t cut it because, yes, Eve looked young, but fuck, she looked so much more than that. Villanelle’s eyes scanned Eve’s features searching for the right word and she finally landed on, “remarkable.” Because really it was more than Eve’s beauty that had made her want this job so badly.

She watched as Eve’s lids fluttered and one of her very high emotional walls slipped down just a bit. 

As for Eve, she hoped the starry-eyed model would stop complimenting her because her resolve was slowly weakening and it wouldn’t be long before she acted on her carnal desires.

“Thank you.”

“You are welcome.” It was Villanelle’s turn to look out of the window. Eve took the opportunity to really look at her. Cat-like eyes, wide but alert. The kind of eyes that were every photographer’s wet dream. Or at least Eve’s. Earlier, Eve had noted the lost look in her eyes when Hugo had been snapping away. _Lost. Direct. Chilling._

Her hair was dark blonde —maybe honey?— and she’d tied it back when they had crossed the street to the restaurant. She was slim, as most models were and her lips were full. Long neck, high cheekbones, skin smooth and bright. Villanelle was the kind of woman who was totally focused, yet almost entirely inaccessible. 

_So why even try?_ Eve wondered. _Why should Eve waste her time?_

“You are staring,” Villanelle said and that was when Eve noticed that she had turned back to face her. 

“You have an interesting face.”

“Really?” Villanelle smirked. “I’ve been told it is pretty basic.”

Eve rolled her eyes, unable to stop the laughter. “Okay. Relent, already.” 

“What?” Villanelle asked, faux innocence dripping from her words. “It is what I have been told.”

“Fine.” Eve placed a hand on her chest and told Villanelle, “I am deeply, _wholly_ sorry I called you basic.”

“Oh, I am sorry but I only accept apologies in the form of compliments.”

When a server came to place their meals before them, Eve was given a reprieve to think of a compliment that didn’t inflate the blonde’s ego. When they were alone again, Villanelle looked at Eve, expectantly. 

“You’re cute.”

It was juvenile, and a little condescending since they’d established their vast age gap, but Villanelle looked away, a shy expression on her face. 

“That is not a compliment.”

“It is when it comes from me,” Eve replied. “Take what you can get. I don’t make it a habit to feed a narcissist’s compliment addiction.”

Villanelle laughed. “Nice.”

Almost in unison, they reached for the chopsticks in the center of the table, fingers colliding. They both froze, looking up at each other. Clearing her throat, Eve grabbed one set and handed it to Villanelle before taking the other for herself. 

“Tell me something about you now,” Eve suggested. It was nonchalant, and said as she dipped a dumpling into a dark sauce. 

Villanelle swallowed a mouth full of spicy Peking duck and shrugged. “What do you want to know?”

“Whatever you wanna tell me,” Eve replied, taking a bite of her food. It was heaven, as always; and she closed her eyes briefly to savor it.

“I wanted to be a photographer when I was young,” Villanelle confessed.

Eve didn’t believe her for a second and it was obvious in the way she asked, “Really?”

“Mhm.” Villanelle reached for her sparkling water and took a sip. “I wanted to be like Mihaela Noroc or the next Annie Leibovitz.”

Eve’s brows raised. She was impressed. Not many people knew who Mihaela Noroc was. “Why?”

“Well, Mihaela takes these amazing portraits of women around the world. She listens to their stories, shares her own, and reminds people why women are the superior sex. And Annie Leibovitz, well… her work speaks for itself.”

Eve nodded in agreement. “True. I think I prefer Annie’s work more.”

“Why‘s that?”

“I think I like that she’s more interested in the subject than what’s happening around them. She found a way to use photography to block out of all the bullshit and the fucking noise and just—.” Eve stopped ranting, trying to figure out why Villanelle was staring at her. “What?”

“You are cute when you are off on a tangent.”

“I thought cute wasn’t a compliment.”

“It is when it comes from _me_.” Villanelle grinned, cutting into her dinner. Eve drank from the gin and tonic in front of her, gaze never faltering.

“Touché.”

* * *

It had taken a little while, but Eve had finally come around. Or at least as much as she wanted to and only because Villanelle had agreed to make an exception to her ‘no drinking’ rule by letting Eve order her a gin and tonic. It wasn’t her favorite taste in the world, but Villanelle suffered through half of the drink, leaving Eve absolutely entertained whenever she took a sip and her pretty face scrunched up in disgust. Their dinner dishes had been cleared and they’d denied themselves any dessert, but stayed at their table to talk a little more. They’d flitted through multiple mundane topics, Villanelle flirted, Eve told herself that she wasn’t flirting back, but deep down she knew what was happening between the two of them. Villanelle was actually growing on her.

“Did you always want to be a photographer?”

“No. I’m pretty sure there was time I wanted to be a construction worker.”

“Wow. _Any_ doubt I had about you being straight has gone out of the window.”

Eve laughed, heartily, at that because Villanelle sure had a way with words. “You had doubts?”

Villanelle shrugged one shoulder. “I read things.”

Eve gasped theatrically. “Models can read?”

“Oh yes, we can even count to ten and tie our own shoes,” Villanelle responded with a playful roll of her eyes.

“I read things too.” Eve sat back in her seat and tapped her fingers against her drinking glass. Her fingertips drew tiny circles in the condensation and she looked so pleased with herself.

“What have _you_ read?”

 _This ought to be good_ , Villanelle speculated.

“Oh no. You first.” 

_I can’t wait to hear this_ , anticipated Eve.

“I think I remember an article about you and another photographer, Niko something?” Villanelle looked up, trying to recall his last name before giving up. “But then again, there was something about a live-in girlfriend. Elena, I think her name was.”

“Niko is my adopted brother, so gross. I don’t live with anyone. And Elena was _never_ my girlfriend.” Eve smirked. 

“But there was an Elena?” Villanelle confirmed.

“Was,” Eve emphasized. “And you? The blogs love to talk about your many relationships. Which piece of twenty-five-year-old piece of eye candy are you _dating_ this week?”

“I do not date them. I fuck them.” Villanelle said and Eve’s eyes flashed. The brunette picked up her drink and brought it to her lips. “I can not stand most of them after I’ve spent a night with them, which is fine. They know what they are there for. Plus,” she looked Eve up and down, “I like older women.”

Eve nearly choked on her drink. Clearing her throat a few times, Eve took a few sips of water and patted her chest with her hand. 

“And that’s relevant because?”

“Oh, because there’s a ninety-seven percent chance that we are going to sleep together sometime in the _very_ near future.” Villanelle bluntly mentioned. She said it as if it was a known fact and Eve was dumb for simply _asking_ such a question.

_What the fuck?_

Eve leaned forward again, chest resting on the table. Villanelle mimicked her motions. Somehow everything else seemed to fade away as if they were the only ones in the establishment. The dim lantern above their table was suddenly the sole light in their private interrogation room. Each woman focused their gaze on the other, challenging one another to reveal something about themselves that would end this little mating dance once and for all. 

“How do you figure?” Eve couldn’t help but ask, looking at her dinner companion incredulously. 

“Because we like each other. Even if _one of us_ does not want to admit it.”

“Not interested.” The brunette negated with a shake of her head.

“Don’t be silly, Eve. Of course, you are.”

The girl certainly was sure of herself. Eve had never found that attractive before, but there was just something about Villanelle...

Her pussy pulsated at the mere thought of fucking Villanelle and, like any good photographer, she had already visualized each position she would like to see her in. “I don’t do models.” Eve lied. 

“Because you have not _done_ the right one.” 

Villanelle had no idea what she was doing, tempting Eve. The poor girl had no idea just how ready she was to risk it all. Bill would have to kill her for fucking one of his models later. For now, Eve’s resolve had completely weakened and she just had to know what Villanelle tasted like.

“And you think that you’re the right one?”

“I guess you will have to try for yourself and see.”

Their waiter decided it was the perfect moment for him to return with their check, placing it in the center of their staring match. “Can I get you guys an--?”

“Check, please.” Eve cut him off, still looking at Villanelle.

  
  



	4. Shutter

* * *

_ Visions Photography Studio, London _

The pair made their way back to Eve’s studio where Eve unlocked the door for them, locking it back once they were safely inside. She took Villanelle by the hand and led her upstairs where the different studios broke apart into their own hidden planes of existence. Villanelle didn’t have to wait for long to see which one Eve chose before she was being tugged along to the one furthest from the stairs. Eve pulled back the curtain just enough for both of them to enter and then…

She was alone.

With Eve Polastri.

She blinked and suddenly Eve was halfway across the small studio, moving to stand in front of a blood-red chaise lounge that stood before three silk drapes that hung loosely from the ceiling. There was a camera that set atop a tripod and Eve tilted her head once and her eyes twinkled as she watched Villanelle turn to look at her surroundings.

“Are you scared?” She asked the young blonde.

That was all the encouragement Villanelle needed. A cocky smile turned up the corners of Villanelle’s lips. “No.” She admitted. 

In the sixty seconds that followed, Eve was suddenly particularly aware of her heightened emotions at that moment. And she was also acutely alerted to the fact that she felt much more than lust for the young blonde.

Villanelle stepped up to the tripod and her fingertips trailed up one of its legs until they reached the camera. When her hazel-green orbs flickered upwards to meet Eve’s brown ones, and a devilish smile crossed her face. She pressed the power button and watched as the small digital screen on the back came to life. Pulling it off of the stand, Villanelle held the camera up and tilted her head.

“Take off your clothes.”

_ Fuck _ was all Eve could think,  _ she’s perfect _ .

Eve slipped her jumper over her head and she heard the shuttered sound of the camera capturing the moment. Eve undid the buttons on her denim shirt and Villanelle snapped away until every button was undone. The blonde crossed the room and used one hand to push the shirt off of Eve’s shoulders, revealing a hunter green bralette. 

_ Shit _ , Villanelle thought,  _ she’s perfect. _

“Look at me.” She commanded. So Eve did. With the height difference, Villanelle couldn’t help but think how absolutely stunning Eve looked. Olive skin that looked softer than silk. Eyes like untainted coffee. And her hair.

Fuck, Villanelle had to know what it felt like. So she reached up and removed the vintage hairpin, watching as Eve’s hair slid down to her shoulders like an onyx waterfall. She lifted the camera and took another picture.

Eve continued to undress for her; canvas sneakers followed her shirt, which was succeeded by her pants until she was standing before Villanelle in a matching bra and panties.

“Wow.” Villanelle commented. “You have a very nice body.” 

Eve smiled. “Thanks.” She reached forward and took the camera from Villanelle, setting it beside her on the chaise lounge. 

“Let me see you,” Eve demanded. There wasn’t a moment’s pause before Villanelle slipped the spaghetti straps of her romper off of her shoulders. Eve had expected a strapless bra, but Villanelle had surprised her with no bra at all and the tiniest scrap of material that passed for panties. This was usually the part where Eve’s mouth was suddenly dry, but not this time. No, this time, her mouth watered as if the most savory meal had been set before her. 

It was only right that she dug in. A small gesture of her head summoned Villanelle closer. Eve slid her hands up the soft skin of Villanelle’s legs and lifted one to rest on the chaise lounge. In a swift movement, she yanked the thong to one side and dipped her tongue through Villanelle’s folds. Eve’s eyes closed and she moaned into her pussy at the sheer taste of Villanelle. 

Villanelle’s head lolled back and her right hand immediately found Eve’s curls and tangled into them, holding her head exactly where she needed it. Heavy breaths turned to full-blown moans and those, in turn, became swear words shouted to the heavens in between Eve’s name. 

“You are  _ so _ good,” Villanelle whined as she ground her hips upwards to gain more friction against Eve’s talented mouth. The moment she looked down, Villanelle knew she’d made a grave mistake. Eve’s big brown eyes shot up to watch the effect she was having on Villanelle while simultaneously slipping the middle and ring fingers of her right hand inside of the blonde. Villanelle’s knees nearly gave out, but Eve caught her by sliding her left around under and around the leg that she’d hoisted onto the chaise, steadying the blonde while also getting a nice handful of her ass. 

Pumping her fingers in and out and wiggling them back and forth in a come hither motion, Eve wrapped her lips around Villanelle’s clit and sucked softly. Villanelle’s pussy clenched around her fingers and her grip on Eve’s hair tightened. The brunette read the signs of an impending orgasm like a book and kept her rhythm steady as she let Villanelle fuck her face and ride her fingers through the first wave of euphoria. 

_ ‘Some beautiful things are better as memories,’ _ Villanelle had said. Eve finally agreed with Villanelle’s statement. Because she would never forget just how gorgeous Villanelle looked when she came.

Villanelle cried out in shock at how rapidly it hit her. She saw little bursts of light behind her eyes as if Eve had used a flash. And when her body was nothing but jelly and aftershocks, she removed her fingers from Eve’s hair and instead placed them on her chin, pulling Eve away. She leaned down and kissed Eve fully, tasting herself on the brunette’s tongue. Villanelle’s walls squeezed around Eve’s still proving fingers until she slipped them out of the blonde. Villanelle gracefully descended to her knees in front of Eve and she took Eve’s hand in her own. She lifted Eve’s wet digits to her mouth and sucked them clean, one by one. Eve’s lips parted and her chest rose and fell quicker as she watched Villanelle fellate her fingers with an undeniable look of lust in her eyes. 

When she was done, Villanelle tucked her fingers into the lace of Eve’s panties and tugged. Eve lifted her hips to assist. Down and off they went and then Villanelle’s hands were on her knees, pushing them apart. Eve leaned back, the heel of her left hand pressing into the plush cushion behind her as it supported the weight of her upper body. She watched as Villanelle’s head descended and then the blonde’s lips parted and her tongue--good  _ god _ , her tongue--gave Eve an exploratory lick straight up the center. As if something primal was unleashed in Villanelle, she worked Eve over with her mouth while reaching up and yanking the cups of Eve’s bra down. Eve reached behind her to unhook the clasps and Villanelle stopped squeezing her tits just long enough to let it slide down Eve’s arms and towards the floor. 

“ _ Fuck _ .” Eve gasped and took in the beauty below. Honey blonde hair that Eve couldn’t resist reaching out to touch. A mouth that had other uses besides slinging sarcastic remarks and bragging.

And those eyes...

Those fucking eyes were even prettier when they gazed up at Eve from between her thighs.

Those eyes that looked at Eve with reverence and determination. Mouth full of Eve’s pussy and hands pressed against Eve’s inner thighs, Villanelle had never been more beautiful. Eve had no choice but to capture that look. She picked up the camera, moved it to her eye level and snapped a picture.

It nearly slipped out of her hand when Villanelle took her by surprise. Her mouth latched onto Eve’s clit and fingers slid easily inside. Eve’s back arched and she succumbed to the sensations that Villanelle created within her. 

And no sooner had Eve dismissed the idea of fucking  _ only  _ VIllanelle for the rest of her life, her body betrayed her and she cried out Villanelle’s name as she came.

* * *

Time had ceased to exist to them. But in reality, Eve and Villanelle had been going at it for the last two hours. Eventually, they ended up on the floor with Villanelle riding Eve’s face in reverse-cowgirl before she leaned forward and pressed open-mouthed kisses against Eve’s pussy. Eve’s moan vibrated against Villanelle’s cunt and she ground down further onto Eve’s tongue. 

That hadn’t taken long either, and eventually, Villanelle had to wrench Eve’s hands from her thighs to crawl away from Eve’s mouth. Down her body, she went and she almost got far enough before Eve grabbed Villanelle’s ankle and pulled as the younger woman scooted closer until they were facing one another. Their legs were intertwined, heads tossed back, hips rolling as they pressed their wet cores together as they pushed the other closer and closer to yet another orgasm. Eve had lost count after number three and neither showed any sign of stopping anytime soon.

They grasped at one another as if they could get any closer, each desperate just to touch just a little more of the other. Skin. Hair. Face. A thigh. A foot. An inch. It didn’t matter. Their frantic movements, heaving gulps of air and cries of utter pleasure all culminated into one moment of sheer bliss when their fingers interlocked and they came. Together.

* * *

It was quiet. Too quiet. And Villanelle didn’t like quiet. She liked when people were reactionary. When they talked about what they felt or thought. But Eve wasn’t that person, so it was clear that she would have to pull it out of her. 

She lifted herself up, head resting in the palm of her hand, and looked at Eve whose arm covered her eyes. Villanelle pulled her arm from across Eve’s waist and let her hand rest on the brunette’s abdomen. Still, Eve lay there with her forearm across her face. So, Villanelle trailed her hand upward until her hand cupped Eve’s breast and squeezed gently before she pinched her nipple just so. An intake of breath from Eve and Villanelle grinned. She did the same thing to the opposite breast and Eve finally removed her arm. 

“How do you have energy for more already?” She asked before rolling her head to the side to look at Villanelle. 

Villanelle smiled and teasingly mentioned, “I’m twenty-seven.”

“Don’t be a dick.” Eve laughed.

“Hey, you set the bar for our interactions. I am just following through.” Villanelle’s hand found its way into Eve’s hair and twirled tendrils around her finger. 

“Ugh.” Eve huffed and draped her arm back over her eyes. Villanelle could see she was trying to hide a smile. 

“I would not keep teasing you if you just told me what you thought when you first saw me.” Villanelle grinned. “What you  _ really  _ thought.”

Eve exhaled, cheeks puffing up with the motion. She removed her arm, turned on her side and gazed at Villanelle. Eve had an overwhelming wave of emotions that she hadn’t felt before. There was admiration, an overabundance of desire that she was sure would have gone away after they’d had sex… but it hadn’t. Eve wanted to know more about Villanelle: what her life was like in Russia, what made her move to the UK, what she did when she wasn’t modeling. It didn’t help that Eve had just been fucked  _ properly _ for the first time in a long time. After the first ten minutes of internally trying to convince herself that her curiosity would wear off once the oxytocin did, Eve knew it was no use.

“When I first saw you, I knew if I took your photograph, my work would be complete. I would finally feel like I’d shot the perfect frame. I knew if I took your photograph, I would never want to take another one for as long as I lived. That’s how beautiful you are.” Eve said, fingertips tracing a line from Villanelle’s temple to her angled jawline.

Villanelle smiled softly, her blinking slow in her post-coital haze. “When I first saw you, I thought... what a bitch.”

Villanelle watched as Eve threw her head back and laughed loudly. It was a sound that Villanelle would kill to hear for the rest of her life. “I am joking. I thought ‘she is stunning. Is she another model?’. Then you panicked and called me basic and  _ then _ I thought ‘what a bitch’.” Villanelle laughed. “I decided right there I would do my absolute best to get this job. I figured,” Villanelle shrugged, “if I couldn’t kiss you, at the very least I could get this job and spend a full day with you.”

“To annoy me?”

“Maybe.” The blonde smiled and then admitted, “But mostly just to  _ be _ around you.”

Eve’s brows raised, but she didn’t respond. And Villanelle was just fine with that. There were so many factors between them, and neither was in a position to admit that they wanted this to be more than what it was in that moment. So they laid in comfortable silence for a while. Looking at each other. Touching one another. And then it hit Eve. 

“Bill is going to kill me.” She groaned and hid her face inside Villanelle's neck. 

“At least you will die having had the best sex of your life.”

“Cocky, are we?” Eve lifted her head and smirked. “And I wouldn’t classify it as the  _ best _ sex of my life, but you did good, kid.”

Villanelle’s jaw dropped, taking faux offense to Eve’s teasing, she whipped the makeshift cover away from their bodies and straddled Eve. 

“What are you doing?” Eve laughed. 

“Oh, we are going again.” She replied, kissing Eve’s neck. “And we are not stopping until I earn that title.”

Villanelle slipped her hand between their bodies and turned Eve’s laughter into moans.

  
  



	5. Develop

_ Two weeks later… _

“You fucked her, didn’t you?”

Eve clicked through her photos on the computer, trying to see which shots she wanted more of. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Bill.” She deadpanned as she kept her gaze focused on the computer. 

“Bullshit.” He responded, crossing his arms. “You two have been eye-fucking one another all day.”

“Who have I been eye-fucking all day?” Eve saved the pictures and then disconnected the cord from her camera, picking it up. She looked at him expectantly, somehow managing to also keep a confused expression. 

Bill scoffed, flagged her off and walked away. Eve smiled down at her camera, amused at his plight, and when she looked back up Villanelle was being led to the walnut backdrop, complete with three wooden crates. 

They locked eyes, Eve threw her a wink and Villanelle stifled a smile as the makeup artist put finishing touches on her. A hairstylist took a rat-tail comb to the sides of her hair, brushing them back and behind her ears to maintain the sleek look. 

“Okay, Villanelle,” Eve called over the house music blasting through the studio, “ready when you are.”

_ Since their first rendezvous, rarely did a single day pass where Eve and Villanelle had not seen each other. They had met for dinner three nights in a row, which turned into drinks and an all-night fuck-a-thon. By day four, Villanelle suggested a movie and carryout at her flat in central London.  _

_ That hadn’t been any better.  _

_ Eve complimented her flat and Villanelle thought that sounded like an invitation to sit on Eve’s face. So she did. By the time they were done, the tv screen asked ‘are you still watching?’ and their Thai food was cold.  _

_ So on days five and six, they decided public places were better. They wouldn’t be as tempted. Or so they thought. Until, on Tuesday, Eve was fucking Villanelle against the door of a pub bathroom while other patrons banged on the door. And on Wednesday, their G-rated picnic had turned PG-13 before they found a thicket of trees that became witnesses to their X-rated activities.  _

_ At least Eve had taken some beautiful photographs of Villanelle enjoying the sun beforehand. _

Despite her protests that she was ‘not the dating type’, Eve found herself constantly thinking about the blonde. What she was doing and who she was doing it with. What she was wearing. Her eyes. Her mouth. What she felt like when she had dozens of people fawning over her at photoshoots and parties.

Now, there Eve was: photographing one of the most beautiful people she’d ever met and hoping beyond hope that no one, not even Villanelle, could tell just how quickly she was falling for the blonde. 

A few hours and nearly three dozen outfits later, Bill called it. The models made their way to change back into their own street clothes while Bill clicked through the pictures. 

“Oh, that one is really good, Eve,” Hugo said. It was Villanelle, sitting along one of the walnut wooden crates in a lovely blue ensemble. Hands on her knees and expression blank, Eve had still managed to capture something unique in her eyes. 

“What’s your secret? How do you get these shots?”

“It’s easy if you have the female gaze.”

“Oh yeah, how do I get that?” Bill joked, continuing to scroll through the series of pictures. 

“Don’t look at your subject as if she is an object only there for your pleasure. See her for who she is. Mischievous, funny, brilliant, clever, and beautiful, inside and out. And when she sees that you  _ see _ her for who she truly is, her eyes will give it away that she’s seeing you too.”

Hugo and Bill looked at one another, brows knitted together, listening to what Eve was saying. 

“So, we should fall in love with her?”

“Men.” Eve scoffed and closed her laptop, slipping it into her messenger bag beside her camera. “Hugo, get these back to the studio and lock up.”

“You got it, boss.”

She headed in the direction of the exit, only to find herself unnecessarily passing the models’ changing rooms. Rapping on the door of the one marked ‘Villanelle’ on printer paper. The door opened and Villanelle appeared, smiling. 

“I was thinking.”

“Yeah, I’m still surprised that models do that.”

Villanelle tapped a finger to Eve’s nose. “You are so cute when you are being rude.”

Eve rolled her eyes. “What were you thinking about?”

“We should go somewhere together. Take the train. Have a long weekend.” Villanelle said, sidling up to Eve and wrapping her arms around the shorter woman’s neck. Somehow in the short time, they’d known one another, Eve had come to learn most of Villanelle’s tones. This one implied that it was less of a question and more of a suggestion that she should have her bags packed within the hour. It wasn’t like Eve couldn’t use the mini-vacation.

“Mm. Where to?” Eve asked, wrapping an arm around Villanelle’s waist. 

“Paris.” She kissed Eve softly. Oh, the possibilities, Eve thought, capturing Villanelle effervescent beauty in the city of love before fucking her on the balcony surrounded by twinkling lights and the smell of cigarettes and freshly baked baguettes in the air.

“Paris.” Eve agreed, pressing a kiss against her lips and then her neck. “Only if you promise to let me edit these photos for Bill at some point.”

Villanelle grinned and held up the pinkie finger of her right hand. “I promise.”

Eve linked their fingers together and they kissed again. 

Someone cleared their throat and the two women started.

“Bill,” Eve said because really there was nothing else  _ to _ say. 

He gave them a knowing smirk, shook his head and noted, “I knew it”, before walking off leaving Eve and Villanelle giggling to themselves. 

“He really is going to kill me later.”

Villanelle peeked around the corner of the door jam and then looked at Eve, a sneaky smile on her face. “Well, he will just have to do it after we have sex.”

“Villa—.” 

But it was too late, Villanelle had yanked her inside, slammed the door and silenced Eve with a kiss. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another one done. Alexa, play literally anything by the Unloved.


End file.
